The Shattered Nightmare: Reawakened
by ApatheticIndifference
Summary: A month after Jaune Arc's disappearance, he returns. Affected by the monstrosities and horrors he had found in the city of Yharnam, he travels back to Beacon Academy a changed man.
1. A Nightmares End

The flames licked at the side of the burning workshop under the dark sky, clouds surrounded a pale moon of blood as the hunter watched the flames trail up and down the walls, yet it remained unburned. He reached into the flame with his ashen white leather glove, only to find no feeling of heat or warmth, just a tingling feeling of cold and movement dancing upon the skin of the leather atop his hand. He reached where he could only guess where the flames emerged from to find not soot or ashes, just a more concentrated chill that seeped into the bones of his body, almost akin to that of fear.

He walked away and over to the workbench decorated in weapons of Hunters long gone, some to the nightmare of the bloodthirst, and some to some unknow place. He removed the large, archaic sword off of his back, the carefully engraved patterns and shapes on the surface of the silver blade were mostly covered by the darkened, bloody bandages that covered the surface. He worked at the blade with rocks of coagulate blood, the surface was blackened and hard and yet, with the tools at his disposal, he could break it apart and add it to the weapon, improving upon its capabilities.

As the bandages were removed, a milky white covered the blade, before the colour blue embraced it tightly and forcing the white to form a pattern in the centre of the blade's true form. He began to fuse the rocks and blade together, gently working at the weapon as his hands were steady and focused at the task at hand. The luminescent blade seemed to brighten as the old blood was added onto it, the gentle hum increasing as if it was a small purring like a cat.

He wiped any left-over stone dust from the surface, before moving onto the moonlight edge, the sharp surface cut his finger the moment it was touched. Placing the sanguine covered tip into his mouth, he licked the blood off of the appendage as to not waste the iron flavoured liquid. The Blade was rewrapped and placed on his back before moving onto the second item he wished to upgrade.

A flintlock pistol was placed on the bench, the handle was leather bound and crated a secure grip. The long barrel was silver with a pinkish tint, as was common with the Cainhurst line of weaponry. The tip was covered in another layer of metal plating, but it was engraved with various patterns, most resembling different arcs, the feature was no doubt decorative, just like the red blood gem at the top of the curved handle. He began to repeat the same process with the gun, as he did with the sword. The motion was common and secondary nature to him with how long he had spent repairing and upgrading weapons.

Whatever his life was before was, it must have been more peaceful and safer than the hell he was in. The city, the woodlands, the nightmares and the crypts were all hellish and unrelenting, forcing a person far beyond their sanity and into madness. It had happened to him various amounts of time, the feeling of losing himself was a creeping cancer through his body, and yet he had returned from far beyond the brink many times, thanks to his mistakes.

Fighting his way out of his thoughts, he retuned to finishing of the repairs to his gun. Once done, the weapon found way to his hip as he pulled out another weapon.

It was a twin blade sword, with one end resembling a katana and the other a Wakizashi, both with engravings along the almost perfect blades. A single guard covered the outside of the hilt as a way to reduce or stop handed that may result in the hand being unable to handle to wield either forms of the weapon. He twisted it in a clockwise fashion before placing it on the table, as to see if the weight had remained the same. The process from before repeated for a final time before placing the weapon on his hip.

The white and blue cloak that decorated his shoulder moved slightly as he walked away and over to some of the bookshelves that decorated the building. He opened up the various tombs as he red through them, only a few 'words' were legible. The books were filled with knowledge and such, however, the writing was incoherent and most definitively of eldritch origin. It was only then he remember three items that were similar to each other.

Opening the small bag at his hip, he removed three carefully wrapped objects before opening the soft, linen cloth they were wrapped in. three separate black, mummified spirals were within the soft covering. The ends were cut, seemingly from the same origin. He crushed each one in his grip as insight into the inner workings of the world flooded his mind, only furthering as he continued onwards. Once the final fragment was done, he wiped a small dribble of blood running down his face from his nose away using the back of his hand, before he returned to reading the books only to find that he could understand each and every one fluently.

He began to memorise each and every page, finding them to be related to the arcane and mystical, as well as other forms of skills that would no doubt be useful. Placing the final book back he began to channel arcane energy to the top of his hand, resulting in a slight blue light appearing. Quickly dispelling it he headed out of the building and back onto the stone slab pathway that winded around the entire place. walking past small patches of railed off plant life, he eventually made his way to a filled of moonlit, luminous flowers.

A long wall of overlapping grey gravestones lined the left side wall from the gate, with a single tree near the graves. Underneath the pearlescent leaves was the hunter Gehrman sat in his old, black steel wheelchair as his wooden leg began to move slightly, making a rustling sound from his near ancient trousers. His withered voice reached over the moonlit field as he began to move, seemingly readying himself.

"Good Hunter, you've done well, the night is near its end. Now I will show you mercy. You will die, forget the dream, and awake under the morning sun. You will be freed from this terrible Hunter's Dream."

For a small while the young hunter stood still as the dreamed wind blew pas his face in a calm glance whilst his eyes were closed, finally opening once he exhaled as his tired, bloodshot eyes opened, a slight madness appearing in the blue orbs as the pupil turned into thin, black slits, before retuning to the regular circle in the centre of the organ. The moment his mouth opened, a cracked and weathered voice left his dry throat, the voice sounding wrong to him due to miss use as every word sounded as if he was swallowing sandpaper.

"No."

The old man began to stand with a creak with the movement as he spoke, the wood of the ancient wheelchair moulding and bending from the action.

"Dear, oh dear. What was it? The Hunt? The Blood? Or the horrible dream? Oh, it doesn't matter... It always comes down to the Hunter's helper to clean up after these sorts of messes."

He stood to his full height easily, as he moved the curved blade around his right side, he slammed it into a metal frame that unfurled, revealing the metal shaft of the scythe, placed firmly in his hands as it had more than a hundred times before, the tally of hunters dead was etched into the blade. The man spoke once more as he charged into the fray, attempting to do as he did a thousand times before.

"Tonight, Gehrman joins the hunt..."

* * *

The Good Hunter was sent flying backwards as the powerful slash cut across his chest, dying the flowers beneath him as he moved, until his feet held strong. The old hunter dashed forwards as his scythe was held high with the moon light glinting over the scarred surface. The weapon only cut the sanguine flowers as the hunter dodged in a could of blue mist, the art of quickening aiding him to move faster and away from the trapped hunter, only to be surprised as the old hunter appeared behind him, preparing to bisect him.

The gunshot of Evelyn rang through the field as Gehrman fell backwards and onto his knees, the Burial Blade separated from his grasp and stuck into the dreamed ground not too far from the two fighting hunters. A partial transformation int his bestial form occurred, changing his arm into that of a large clawed hand, the four digits tipped with lacerating claws and covered in a fine layer of golden fur and hair, rather than that of the standardised transformation.

The hand plunged into the first hunter's side, smashing through the thick layer of clothing and through the wrinkled flesh as the ribs shattered under the force and a visceral amount of blood coming through the opened wound, before the beast-like hand was wrenched from the body with a sickening squelch and slurp as the flesh tried to stop it from leaving.

A hard thud sounded through the area as the old body fell to the ground, before a sharp kick to the stomach forced the white-clad hunter back, before he had to dodge a hail of bullets from the man's gun, as he began to levitate into the air, before he launched at a rapid pace towards the good hunter as the speed of his descent brought up dirt and flowers, only for them to be soon joined by the deep crimson colour of blood as the scythe pierced through his back, barely missing the spine and vertebrae, but cutting through the stomach as the acid and blood poured out of the wound rapidly, before he fell down onto the scarlet stained flowers.

A loud roar ripped from the hunters course throat as it forced the blood through the course oesophagus as it forced the man back away from him and disturbing the flowers around him as claws emerged from his hands. He leapt forward as his elongated canine teeth came together in frustration, as they began to grind against each other. A roll backwards allowed him to keep his head as the large curved scythe almost took of his head in an easy swing.

The first hunter received a slash against his torso as the knife-like claws dug into his skin and clothes, erupting into a flow of blood as a large burst of energy came from the old man, practically sending him to the other side of the field in a hard movement as he began to tumble and roll. He stood up, only to fall back as the curved sword form of the Burial Blade made its way through his chest and was ripped out in a visceral display of carmine liquid.

Using Quickstep, the good hunter was able to make a large enough distance between both him and Gehrman, before injecting a vial of blood into his veins as the wounds began to sew back together at a rapid pace with an uncomfortable amount of heat and pain that had become a common feeling. He withdrew Maria's Rakuyo, before separating both blades and held them at his sides, ready to attack. Both opponents rushed at each other, before commencing to attack each other furiously.

The blades met each other occasionally, causing a ringing sound from each hit and sparks as the blades grinded against each other, before returning to the usual combat. Both worked through the pain the felt to finish the other off in a single, finale attempt to be the victor, both to save the other from the dream, before the hunter walked past the other, who had fallen to his knees whilst blood rushed from his gut. He handed the scythe to the living hunter in a painful attempt.

"The night, and the dream, were long..."

The old man spoke in gasps as his life was leaving him, his cape falling off of his person, the clothing's rags moving onto the good hunters feet as he placed it around him, the old fabric sitting safely on his neck and shoulders as he shook his outfit to remove most of the blood off of him in one easy go. Gehrman collapsed as his blood pooled beneath him as it saturated the earth, before his body disappeared into a pale blue mist.

He was drawn from the evaporating body from a loud scream, he felt a few drops of blood leave his ear cannel in response to the sound, what really caught his eye, however, was the moon. The colouration had turned to a rose pink, the whole circle which he had become accustom too had seemed to warp slightly as a large, slender black figure began to float over to where he stood.

* * *

It landed with a heavy thud as the petals took to the air. He could heat the writhing tentacles and the exposed bones of ribs clatter into each other as if they were some form of macabre symphony. It stalked forwards, before jetting the bony, thin arms forward, grabbing the hunter within the almost fleshless fingers before dragging it forwards towards the black, malformed face with a large gap at the centre of the face, before being forced to drop the hunter due to pain.

A large burst of pale arcane energy bursted open the twisted joints of the creature, blood poured from the opened wounds in grand doses . The near ear bursting noise roared from the single gaping hole as it rushed at him with thin appendages ready to claw at his soft malleable flesh below the hardened leather. Moving out of the way of the Great One's strike with a quick dodge towards the main body, he began to cut a the ankles of the creature in a fast succession, and at a far greater speed than before as the creatures blood doused his body and clothing.

It jumped upwards, before crashing back down on top of the hunter and resulting in him being crushed and breaking half of his ribs violently and piercing through his sides and his lungs, forcing crimson liquid through his broken wind pipe, before he injected another vial of blood which immediately began to heal damages. The Rakuyo went through the calf at the black skinned muscle before being fragged downwards and rendering the muscle unusable.

It gazed at the good hunter as the small hole in its warped face began to glow a bright red as it looked at him, before he felt his bod rip and tear as blood violently left his body through his mouth, eyes and ears, all whilst pain filled his body. He fell forwards as he pulled down the leather collar around his mouth, before spitting out the coppery, yet sweet, liquid and wiping away blood marks on his face. He grabbed the Burial blade from off of his back as he began to run back as the large beast, driving the transformed scythe into the gap in the forearm, before pulling it towards him and cutting the hand in two.

A wailing filled the dream as the Great One screamed in pain from the action, before it received the blade across the lumpy flesh that could barely be called a face. The pressurised blood squirted over the hunters body as the creature reeled back before swinging randomly as an attempt to kill him, in desperation. He threw the scythe with all his might as what appeared to be blue strings covered the dull silver shaft as it landed, before being pulled back towards the hunter.

The blood drenched scythe came back to him at a rapid pace as he ran towards the Great One, before grabbing the weapon and swinging it quickly, severing the left arm from the Moon Presence's body, the visceral gore covering the hunters beaten and partially broken body with a desperate breathe filled with a burning pain. The curved blade detached from the weapon in a fluid motion, cutting into the soft neck and drawing another large amount of blood, before switching to the holy sword of moonlight and severing the head of the beast, making it turn into a light blue mist.

The world around him began to fall apart, seemingly breaking into pale, white luminescent petals falling apart and flying into the sky as the world darkened around him, the moon shattered as the dream began to fade away into nothingness, being replaced by a slowly growing dark abyss approaching upon him. The hunter stood there as it grew closer, the hunter stood still as light, red stained tears fell down his cheeks as they began wash away the grime, blood and mud off of his face.

He sat down on the field as it grew even closer to him, letting the gentle feeling of the soft flowers under his fingers, the velvety feeling felt calming against the calloused hand of the hunter as he waited for the inevitable end of the dream. The calming feeling of the dark surrounded him as he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the enveloping dark, he accepted it as he closed his eyes, expecting it to be the final time that he would ever do so, only to be surprised when he felt a soft light atop of his face.

He opened his eyes as the sound of calm waves licked at the side of cement, only to find himself back to where his nightmare had begun, at the port of a city, one far different from that of Yharnam. One that he had missed and not filled with nightmares and the darkest things that could be found. He was back in the City of Vale.


	2. Bloody Dawn and Terror-Filled Nights

Tired, shaded eyes watched as the weak waves repeatedly splashed at the edge of the grey pier under the soft morning sun, all whilst he let the bright light blind him as his retinas widened to absorb the majesty of the world around him, despite the industrial grey surroundings. The once forgotten surroundings was a calming sight to him and one that he would call home, even if it was going to take a large amount of time to readjust to the way the world he had returned to worked, rather than that of the blood thirsty city of Yharnam

Fear wrapped around his body and soul as the world became a tinted red at a single thought about Yharnam. The deep cerulean sea, scented with the smell of salt, fish and industrial smoke, turned a violent, sweet sanguine as the more preferable smells shifted to that of decaying flesh and bile that invaded his senses in its entirety. The weathered fingers of creatures unknown crawled up the deep carved stonework of the docks with sickening cracks echoing from the rotting joints and brittle bones as if it was a horrifying symphony, before trying to grapple the hunter's sullied boot, however, the bloody fingers barely dragging across the worn leather surface before he pulled it back in a quick, jolted manner.

He fell back as a clawed hand dragged at his leg from a puddle of dark crimson blood, the long claw at the centre of the fingers nearly cutting into him. A scourge beast dragged itself from the bloodied ground, just akin to the one from Ioseka's clinic that had done so when he had first awoken, however, rather than being saved by flames, he withdrew a silver throwing dagger from his hip pouch on his belt, before plunging it into the beast's neck with extreme fury. It roared in pain as the serrated edges ripped and torn the mangled flesh and muscles around the oesophagus and forcing it to release its grip.

The flat sole of the hunter's boot collided with the starving beast's hairless chest, before he ripped the knife from the beast's neck violently with highly pressurised crimson gushed forth like a waterfall, causing the creature to lose balance and coordination from hunger ang blood loss. It launched forwards in desperation, the yellow toned claws nearly dragging across the hunter's leather-bound chest until he moved backwards in a volley of arcane mist to escape such a fate. A growl reverberated from the salivating monstrosity's mouth whilst it begun to stray around the solitary hunter, who stood still with the bloody throwing knife in hand, the laboured breathing of the creature combined with the blood tainted drool which slapped against the concreate was the only noises in the area, until a loud scratching filled the air.

Sparks flew as the dragged bone claws grinded against the floor as it ran at the hunter, in an attempt to pierce through his stomach and spill entrails to create a bloody feast for the former human. A single streak of silver and red flashed as the dagger penetrated the dragging hand through the bone and the palm with sickening sounds, before landing firmly into the ground and pining the limb to ground. The creature still ran forwards in desperation, only for hand to tear with a wet ripping sound and a pain filled yelp from the creature, before being silenced by the curved edge of the glimmering Burial Blade.

The lifeless cadaver dropped as the red fur covered head splattered across the pavement and left sticky residue of old blood on the ground. The world began to return to its original appearance as the red sea receded to the relaxed blue it once was, and the clawing creatures disappeared. The body of the scourge beast began to fall apart with the flesh loosening from the bone as decay was quickly set upon the body, small, stringy gnarls of flesh and lifeless muscle began to turn to nothing but blood that bubbled slightly .

The iron filled liquid began to draw nearer to the hunter's body, the crimson writhing its way onto the hunter's body, before seeping into the pours of his skin, the small echoes of the creatures life entwining with his own as his body began to absorb and store the small echoes within the blood for later usage. The sound of the curved sword sheathing under his cloak echoed in the area, which was swiftly followed by the thud of his body collapsing against the ground.

* * *

The soft moaning of small creatures forced consciousness back to the hunter. Small, pale faces that were horribly disfigured greeted him as they waved their bone thin arms in the air, either in relief or joy he did not know. They had found an abandoned warehouse that was derelict with rouble and damaged glass littering the floor as he began to think. Living in Yharnam had given him an appreciation for the isolation and the simplistic, with such locations often being somewhat safer than that of the city. From deep within the leather bag on his hip, he drew a silver cane with a pointed blade forming the bottom of the staff for support as he pushed himself off of the cold ground, as the scent of blood invaded his nostrils for the second time in the new day.

The heavy steps of weighted leather echoed in the mostly empty building, alongside the small scuttering of the rats that had made the empty building home. The smell of decay grew as he opened what appeared to be a basement, movement caused the heavy steel hatch to creak as the rusted hinges were forced to allow entry, requiring large amounts of strength to move the material. A calming light as the flame atop the hunters torch crackled revealed a growing trail of aged blood heading down into the blackness below.

As he descended, the bloody trail increased, eventually leading him into a small corridor filled with four different metal doors, one with the trail of blood leading to it. rattling filled the room whilst the hunter turned the knob on the door, only to discover a thin line of metal attaching the door to the frame with signs of welding along the bit of metal. With a small ruffling of his and Gehrman's cloaks, he withdrew the moonlight blade before it was covered in incandescent blue and thrusted forwards, blowing the door off of the hinges, leaving only small scraps of dull, burnt steel and the room beyond.

Old, blood stained, iron shackles hanged from the ceiling of the room, rattling away due to the force of the moonlight blast, before stopping as the hunter grabbed onto the jangling chains. The stains of blood covered the walls and floors, with the colour having turned to a dark maroon, rather than that of a crimson shade. In the centre of the room was a rotting, blood soaked wooden chair with shackles covering the legs and the armrests, both of which were in closed shut around the mangled and chewed limbs that barely resembled the hands that they once were. An old partially rotting corpse sat in the chair, the atrophied body appeared frozen in agony as the hollow, lifeless eye sockets hid behind small remaining tufts of hair splattered in blood.

The overhanging remains of once brown hair was broken by small horns that were emerging from the front of his forehead, parts of which had seemingly been sawn off. The gloved hand of the hunter pushed the face up for any other recognisable features, the moment of movement had causing sacks of bodily fluid to burst and leak from the head and the mostly exposed spine with sickening squelching, however, the sound did not even cause the last hunter to feel fazed or hesitation in continuing the action. As he drew his gloved hand back, a rather small rat tried to bite into his flesh after emerging from an empty socket to defend its home, the hunter automatically reacted by throwing the living ball of fur and teeth into a wall, causing the breaking of its back and making it squeal an irritating, high-pitched noise of agony from the small creature, before the injuries to its organs finally killed it, the body staying still as the blood made its way to the hunter as he stood in a praying motion before speaking a single word.

"Umbasa."

The torch in his hand turned the body alight with the fluids acting as fuel, causing the painfilled screeches of a rat colony in red, hot agony filled the warehouse, which gradually lessened as they died, leaving only ashes and the rats drained blood echoes, alongside the stains of the past of the actions that had happened in the room. The moment he entered the adjustment room a small smile grew on his face due to the location being habitable, there was a single, old mattress and a matching pillow that was caked in dust, there was a single chair made of metal. Off to the side of the room was a small bathroom that contained a shower, which only used cold water, and an old mirror, which he proceeded to clean using an old rag, not noticing any changes in appearance before returning to the place he would sleep in.

The duo of capes, as well as his coat were placed on the back of the chair, before he moved to the mattress and sat down on the spring filled bedding with his bag placed beside it with his trusted hat onto and his weaponry to its side alongside it. The yearning for sleep overtook him as the heavy eyes on his face began to close as his breathing became rested and steady, until he began to dream. They were no more than nightmares, forcing him to relive the torture and agony throughout his stay in the blood drenched city.

Every moment he spent in the nightmares was a retelling of his different moments in his tale, and every experience that he had lived through. The crushing pain as a titanic arm grinded the life out of him was accompanied by the feeling of his bones turning into dust beneath the weight of the rough skin, the tumours, adding weight to the near indomitable arm before it changed to another scene. The bubbling of his skin and burning of his flesh from the pyre he was forced upon by the maddened villagers was agonising, his eyes bubbled before bursting from the heat as darkness over took his sight and his senses were dulled, before changing to another circumstance. The moment it he could see once again, the feeling of sharp metal cutting against his stomach registered, with its own distinct type of burning alongside it, the air was filled with the sound of wet, flesh smacking from where his guts had fallen from within his body, the entrails having gained access due to the open, axe inflicted wound tracing the middle of his body, the very same axe soon planted into his skull as it broke through the skull and brain, forcing the hunter to wake in a cold, clammy sweat with his shirt having become stuck to his moistened skin, alongside his left arm becoming that of a beast with dark blue fur, before returning to that of his usually human arm.

Groaning filled the area as a messenger appeared from the cement ground next to the bedding, the pale fingers on its hand griped the index and middle fingers as a way to comfort the hunter as it stared at him with a gaping face where e the eyes were replaced with black, wrinkly skin. A small, rattling chuckle escaped his chapped lips as he watched the messenger bob slightly as if it was in water, before he finally spoke though a tired, exhausted voice, the feeling of his throat was painful with each word, and yet it was getting easier to speak.

"I'm fine, just some small nightmares. I'll be fine."

He began to unbutton his shirt with the sweat-drenched attire being slowly stripped from his upper body, showing the various amounts of scars, burns and gouged, missing flesh over his body. Throwing the sweat ridden garment over to the side on the stone floor, his eyes closed as his back lay on the mattress, softly muttering to himself as his consciousness once again faded, leaving him open to his nightmares once again.

Gnashing jaws tore into his flesh as decaying toxins forced its way into the bloodstream and throughout the body body as the blood-starved beast continued its assault, clawing at his flesh in desperation for his living blood, until the scene faded with the feeling of his eyes being carved and forced from their sockets with an old, sharpened, unsanitary scalpel, causing a vile, metallic burning to be inflicted upon the inside of his skull, all whilst sublime blood welled up within the forming crevice, creating bloody tears falling from the hollow holes which began to trail down his face and neck as he forwards into darkness as the remaining stringy stem behind his arm was ripped from the skull in agonisingly pain using the dirty hands of the knife wielder. It had changed again, with the first sensation being that of being shocked from the numerous amounts of electricity forced into his system as he was held by the skeletal dark beast's furred fingers, only for it to stop as the merciless arms slammed him to the solid ground beneath it and issuing a loud crack from the dying hunters vertebrae as it twisted oddly before blood drenched the ground from both his mouth and nose.

A roaring scream that tore at his throat left his lips upon awakening once more. A gathering of more messenger had appeared beside him in an attempt to comfort him as he began scratch viciously at a fractural pattern on his left arm until he drew blood with skin beginning to clump under his nails. The permanent scar felt as if he was once again receiving the electricity that had caused its existence. As he continued his panicked endeavour, small blue sparks of arcane and electricity began to form with him unknowing of their existence with only the small, decrepit messengers noticing them. Just as soon as they came, they disappeared the very moment the hunter had regain his composure.

Moving out of the small room and into the main storage room of the warehouse in a slow walk, he had discovered that it had once again turned to dawn due to the bright orange light he could see through the small, cloudy window covered in webs. At once he rushed to his small hovel, before entering the bathroom without his newly discarded apparel as he begun to run the cold shower, the water having taken a small amount of time to run through the aged pipes before forcing its way through the rusting shower head. The way he had scrubbed over his body was unrelenting in an extreme method to remove as much sweat and grime from his heavily damaged body, which had granted him the knowledge that the shade of his skin had become a paper white all over his blemished body with only a small tint of colour in the skin covering him.

He had intensely scrubbed his golden and raggedy hip long hair, which was far more difficult as some of the hair had become entwined with each other and had formed different knots, ties and clusters from the amount of grease, blood and sweat that had come to lacquer the hair which could only really be called an unruly mane. The flakes of long dead skin from his scalp and dried blood that had belonged to others was quickly washed away by the torrential water. For the very first time in forever, his freshly washed feet met with the solid floor, which had felt odd from the amount of time he had spent with them covered by other materials. The relatively soft skinned feet had begun to make way for the exit, only to have abruptly stop in front of the mirror.

It was a golden light between the strands of his fringe had caught his attention in the reflective surface. After he had moved the ragged locks, he stared deeply into the depths of his slightly blood shot eyes, he discovered that a slightly bright, gold sheen that covered the irises in almost their entirety, however, the original blue was visible beneath the luminescent sea, and somehow did not create a green visage . After he Ignored the growing, dark purple bags under his eyes and the golden glow, he was drawn towards the centre, which caused him to stare deeper into the blood red pupils as they looked back in kind. Calloused fingers had begun to trace the very thin and jagged scars around the ocular organs from where they had been removed from their housing.

After he had regained movement, his feet had carried him into the room he had slept in as the uncovered feet continued to make wet slapping noises against the unfurnished flooring in his journey over to the old, seemingly bottomless bag. Rustling had filled the small room as he rummaged around in its depths until he had withdrawn a simple, only slightly bloody towel and the decorative old hunter attire, alongside a small hood to cover his head whilst travelling in public in case he found people h had once known. The final boot went onto his foot with a small jingle from belts and brass that covered both his upper form and the trousers, before he finished by placing both his and Gehrman's capes atop his short coat, with the latter of the capes touching the solid grounds grey surface. A small adjustment of the high collar of larger cape was the finale adjustment before he pulled his hood down over his head.

The buckles on the belts of the right leg sung as he made his way out of basement area again before, for the first time, closing the metal hatch with a loud, echoing slam that cut through the empty air before becoming deathly silent. The exact moment that he walked out of the old warehouse a red tint once again covered the world around him, dyeing the sun a dark red and replacing the world with a near identical replica, but rather than humanity filling the land, creations of the old blood roamed its depths and around derelict buildings. A single roar filled the air as a beast patient like those in Old Yharnam was staring at him in bloodlust with the maw dripping clear, bubbling saliva from in between the yellowing teeth. The creature lunged at him, only to receive a leather-covered fist into the beasts gut, before breaking through the flesh and bone as the hunter forced it farther upwards under the sternum, until he gripped the putrid heart in his grasp, before he yanked it out violently as he was covered in viscera and gore.

The same phenomena as the scourge beast had occurred as the hunter watched it rot and melt into a pile of blood, as well as leaving what appeared to be very small blood gems that were unsuitable to upgrade weaponry with but could be passed off easily as deep red jewellery. The hunter only muttered to himself as he begun to walk forwards into the beast filled world with the Rakuyo at the ready for any beasts he many encounter in his travels as he began to decipher the otherworldly plane around.

"So, if I want to hunt, I think I just have to think about coming here… interesting. Bodies act like back in Yharnam, but decay far faster and into nothing but blood and, presumably items rather than the bodies."

A large twisted grin grew on his scarred face as a low cackling escaped his dry throat, the rough sound still being odd to him and far less painful.

"I guess this is going to be so much fun, right?"

The growing laugher echoed around the area as he started to run through the duplicate docks, quickly followed by the howls of pain as merciless combat with the Rakuyo and Evelyn that was in the hunters hands, who willingly charging into the fray and chaos of the world around him without a hint of fear.

* * *

Once he left what he had begun to call 'The Shattered Nightmare' due to the ruined state of the city, all of the blood covering him from the creatures disappeared into him, only taking notice of the occurrence, rather than the hour of night he had found himself in, before turning the Burial Blade back into its separate parts as he placed them back under the cape and onto his back. As far as he could tell, there was no living person around before he begun to climb atop one of the buildings nearby as to shorten the amount of time taken to travel. Heavy footsteps echoed through the blissfully silent night as he began to run over tiles and near an open docking point, only to stop once a large explosion sounded throughout an area nearby.

Heading over to the epicentre and a few other roofs, he found himself looking through a warehouse's window and finding a large amount of people in the same grey, almost military-like uniform with masks covering the top of their faces, each holding weaponry of the same designs, ranging from swords to automatic rifles in the area where the sounds of conflict could be heard. Deciding to have a small amount of fun, the hunter puled out a monoscope as he lined up with the average sized window before he pulled down the magnifier to his sides and ran forwards towards the edge, before jumping and shaping his body almost like that of a javelin as a smile formed.

The sound of shattering glass filled the area as the hunter spun through the air as his curved blade was taken out from under his cape and, as a result, revealing himself to those in the warehouse and alerting them to his presence. A grunt released a scream of pain as the silver, curved blade pierced him through the chest and left a gaping hole into the chest with viscera painting the wall and boxes behind the bleeding man just as the hunter swiftly attached the shaft of the scythe with a swift click, before the raised grip was dragged upwards swiftness and implanting into the floor on the opposite side of the grunt and splitting the upper body into nearly two halves as shredded organs and bones fell from the loosened flesh.

The presumed leader of the group in a slightly different uniform with more red shouted to the others, the voice ripping through the silenced area, and was followed up with gunfire.

"Kill the human! If we wait any longer, it may affect the grand plan!"

The scythe blade ran through another grunt's neck, the head being ripped off in a clean fashion as highly pressurised blood rushed and formed a macabre fountain, before having to dodge as another one of his comrades ran at him with a swords. The blade the man held was shattered as it impacted the scythes edge, before he was forced to drop the remaining hilt as his arm travelled through the air with the grunt being forced to his knees in agony. Blood gushed as a hand tore into the grunts side and making him writhe in desperate agony, to only have relief as the opposing limb had withdrawn the lungs and trachea from the entry point with even more sanguine having lathered the floor beneath him whilst his life faded, the surviving enemies gaging as acidic bile dragged up their throat at the scene.

Other worldly metal gleamed under the artificial lighting as the Burial Blade flew through the air but only having caused an arm to be severed from the owner, before the grunt received a quick slash across their chest diagonally with the Rakuyo's katana blade, which was then proceeded by the slightly-tinted red blade penetrating at the centre of the sternum, shattering the bone and emerging from the back in a fresh coating of crimson, before pressing in the thin handguard which released the small blade at the handles base. The wakizashi tore into another's chest with a sickening slop of tearing flesh and crunch of bone, before having to do a fast twirl that had allowed him to avoid some automatic fire from the leader, as well as allowing him to rip the blades from his recent victims and slashing them across the throats with the near perfect blades in one notion. As both weapons locked back together, he drew his pistol and moved forwards slightly before shooting another quicksilver round from Evelyn through the man's leg and causing the bone to shatter with a blood curdling scream that ran from deep recesses of the man's chest, before another went through the man's hand with the weapon dropping from the damaged limb.

Glittering tears trailed over man's face as he spoke in a trembling voice of fear, small strands of thick mucus dripped from the nostrils which covered the man's mouth .

"W-what the hell are-"

The sentence was cut off as the regained Burial Blade impaled him through the bottom of his gullet and through the top of his head alongside some amount of brain matter along with it, only for the soft, gelatinous material to fall off as it sled out of the skull swiftly. The writhing blood of the dead crawled its way onto and into his body as he watched the blood on the blade cover his hands and sunk into his exposed wrist. The scythe was hefted over his shoulder comfortably as he headed out of the building into a larger battle field and left the nearly bloodless bodies in the place that they fell with a small smile gracing his paled face as another explosion rang out.

* * *

Many different people that were fighting was the sight he was greeted with the moment he exited the building, mostly consisting of people in attire similar to the people he had fought earlier. The most prominent scene was a ginger haired man in a long dapper white coat which was topped by a black bowler hat atop his head, who was in combat with a blond man in an open shirt that showed the abs beneath, he also had a monkey tail coming from out of back. The dapper man was defending the blows that came his way with a cane with expert easy, the red and golden num-chuks being repealed cleanly despite the blasts that were coming from within them. The rustling and clanking of items in the bag filled the area from his little brown bag before he pulled out a thick glass bottle of blue liquid. The scent of anaesthetic filled the air once the silver cap was removed, the numbing liquid travelled down his throat swiftly as the world became numb to him and his body seemingly turned spectral.

Every step he had taken over the battlefield went unnoticed by all, allowing him to occasionally help another fighter that seemed familiar to him. She was dressed in almost all black, with the occasional white covering clothing covering parts of her body, the most noticeable feature however was the bow atop her head and the slit golden eyes, almost like that of a cat. Each strike surprised both parties and only made contact with places that would not permanently cause harm, just a lot of pain in the instance and the inability to fight.

The hunter began to move from the battle field as he felt the sense of feeling return to his system. One he was in a more isolated area on the battle ground, he turned to a blue mist as he quickstepped out of the way of a thin, sharp blade that had aimed for his head, however it still grazed against his cheek and drew blood from the fine edge of the weapon . The sight he was met with once he turned to his assailant was that of a small girl with multi-coloured hair, with pink on the right that had just a few highlights of white covering it, and just plain brown hair on the right. She held a parasol with a faint gleam of the metal sword inside it before she sheathed it in its entirety, all whilst watching the hunter with a pink left eye and a white right eye.

Grins grew on both of their faces as they ran towards each other with the intent to kill or incapacity the other under the broken moons pale light that shone overhead.


	3. Hope Of Morning

Shattered, multi-coloured glass covered the ground as the curved blade cut through the woman's right side before shifting the oncoming, piercing jab of the parasol to the left of his body, shocking the small woman, before planting a fist into the side of her face with the rippling waves of her Aura protecting her from the majority of the damage, but still sending her barrelling backwards and creating a large amount distance between the two, all whilst covering her in small particles of dust and broken concreate whilst she emitted visible confusion in her colour changing eyes.

The hunter, however, began to laugh with his voice bouncing off of the walls and seemingly the air, a vicious, bloodthirsty smile covered his face before speaking mockingly.

"You, my dear, have made a large mistake. Illusions and lies do not phase me, I can see the truth of the world around me, even the eldritch true. A mere copy does nothing to me, even if it is stitched into the veil of this supposed reality."

He disappeared into a pile of sanguine, before reappearing from behind the assassin from a single dribble of his blood. Air was cut as the scythe was swung in a curved upwards style, all to the shock of the woman. His gloved hand dragged across the small that was leaking a fine crimson that began to fade into paleness, before licking the liquid off of his finger tip slowly as he stared at the woman.

"In fact, if it wasn't for the little beauty you left me. I wouldn't have been able to do that, and I have been meaning to test it. Now, shall we continue in our own macabre dance?"

The hunter crouched down as if he was at the start of a race, before darting forward, barely missing his assailant as she quickly moved out of the way, or from her shocked expression, that was what would normally happen. The Burial Blade's pointed tip dragged across the surface of her Aura; however, she did manage to cause a wound to the hunter that would have been fatal to most, his whitening blood painted the surface of the ground he began to topple over. With a sharp stop and a stumble, his body turned awkwardly towards the small woman as she made for a quick kick to his stomach, never noticing the excited grin on his face.

White blood bursted over the woman, making her cover her eyes as the man exploded into the thick, pasty liquid. A sharp jab hit her in the side under the ribs, forcing the very air from her lungs and away from where she had stood. Before she could complete the desperate act of plunging her sword into the attacker, her hand was stopped by the hunter with a sickening crack as her wrist snapped back, before being thrown to the side, and into a wall, the action dislocating the arm from the socket.

"Surprise."

Standing there, in front of the beaten criminal was the huntsman, and a double made out of the whitened blood from his veins, the wounds she had dealt seemingly had disappeared, at least from what she cold tell from her one open eye. One of the duo kicked the weapon away from the girl as the other grabbed her by her throat and hefted her upwards as the glittering gold of his eyes peered into her own.

"In a normal case, I would drain you of that ever so sweet sanguine, but I feel merciful. I want you to live so you can be more of a challenge, more of a threat."

A thud sounded out around the docks as she was thrown to the side, before scampering off in pain and agony. The bloodshot eyes watched as she limped away from where she had been beaten, leaving a small trail of blood that was quickly assimilated into the hunter. White dripped to the floor as the duplicate began to melt as if it was wax, the face contorted in agony before a throwing knife was plunged into its chest. The serrated blade was pulled out fast as it was thrown at a wall, and through the knee of another member of the early, militaristic group.

A grunt of pain left the girl's mouth as she fell back, the imposing hunter was slowly walking towards her as he juggled another of the knives. Sharpened steel was pointed at her throat as he spoke.

"Please do me the favour of telling me about your group, and why it appears that you are assaulting some, at least, moderately innocent people? I'd much rather not have to hurt you in anyway."

The warm spit of the girl landed on his face over his right eye, the liquid almost contacting his eyeball.

"Fuck you, human."

The spit was wiped off with the back of his hand, before he spoke with fake sadness to hide the twisted glee in his voice.

"I guess it's the painful way then, such a shame. You may want to bite into something, it should help, at least for a small while ."

A thin knife that was drenched in a purple, poisonous liquid was slammed into her other knee as the joint could be heard snapping as the trousers became dyed a deep, thick crimson. Almost instantly, her complexion seemed to pale as her breathing became struggled, a small trail of sanguine dripping from her nose as coughing came from her drying throat.

The hunter held a small brown packet that contained three white tablets. The small antidote pills was just far enough to tempt her to move the painfilled body.

"This is the only type of antidote to the poison in your bloodstream. In a few seconds, the majority of your organs will suffer necrosis, then turn to mush. For every answer that you give, I will give you one tablet, which will help lessen the poisons effect on you. Why are you at the docks?"

"We… need Dust for our… goal."

He gave a tablet, which she quickly swallowed, however, it got stuck in her throat.

"What is your group called?"

She coughed violently, the sark sanguine dropped from her slackened mouth as if she was vomiting, small nibbles of dead flesh was mixed into crimson liquid. The woman's speech was slurred as she spoke two words through the decaying muscles in her jaw.

"White… Fang."

The girl slouched over as the life left her eyes, as the body hit the floor, he could see the liquidised brain pour from her nose and the empty eye sockets, the eyes themselves having bursted and formed a puddle beneath her cadaver.

"I should have considered that you may have had a weaker poison resistance. Shame."

A heavy sound of the bleeding body being dragged filled the area until it reached the very end of the docks. Red salty water splashed onto the hunter as the body landed into the water, dying the area a weak vermillion as the body fell below its waves. Moaning came from his side as a messenger appeared beside him, holding the glittering edge of the Blade of Mercy and the mask of the crow in its spindly palm. The hunter reached down as he lightly rubbed its oversized head.

"Thank you, my friend. I know that this will help me."

Fabric rustled as he donned the mask, the golden lensed eyes still viewable through the eyeholes of the wooden mask. The smell of the incense in the curved beak was refreshing and strong compared to that of the blood, the smell overtook his sense of smell as he twirled the curved blade in his hand before heading off into the main battle site as the fighting raged on, only to stop as he heard the giggling of a child from behind him.

He knew who it was. It was one of his greatest regrets brought to life once again. Instead of downing a bottle of sedative, he raised the merciful blade to his hand, before stabbing the blade right through it until the laughter stopped, leaving a hand that could just barely be recognised as one. Blood was injected into his system as the needle of a vial of blood pierced his leg.

Step by step he moved closer to the fighting, his putrid eyes looked over the battlefield and found a few more people that had joined, such as what appeared to be a small girl dressed in a ruby red cloak, with red hair and silver eyes. The girl seemed familiar to him but had to delay those thoughts as bullets passed by his head.

A single round almost struck him in the chest, only to fail as he quickstepped out of the trajectory and delivered a harsh blow to the White Fang member, directly cutting him across the chest only causing a small amount of liquid ruby, before turning and switching the weapons into a pair of daggers with the sharp sound of the mechanism unlocking filling the air over the loud bullet fire. One dagger cut across a female's arm painfully, making her drop the gun she was holding, and the other was jammed into the shoulder of another just before the leather clad hunter slammed both of their heads together, rendering them unconscious.

The blades reattached before he grabbed the gun, the unfamiliar heavy weight of the weapon being slightly putting off him off as he fired it. The automatic gunfire took out three more of the White Fang members, before he threw the gun at a fourth, distracting the gunman and allowing him to get closer with only the loss of a few droplets of pale blood from small cuts that were left on him from the searing bullets.

Across the stone-grey plane, he saw the girl in red fall as her weapon, a red scythe, skidded across the floor. Leather slapped against the pavement as he ran towards the disarmed girl as he changed back to the large Burial Blade.

"End of the line Red. It's been fun, well, not really but hey, if it's any consolation you offered some good practice."

The ginger criminal raised the hooked end of the cane into the air as he prepared to strike her down, only to be sent across the cement and into some shipping crates, leaving a heavy dent into the one that he hit and spewing its contents on the flout. The glimmering and scarred edge of the Burial Blade created a more imposing form as the vaguely human looking man walked away from the girl in red, whistling a haunting tune from a small music box he heard once, before stopping and staring at the bowler hat wearing man, who started to speak in a mix of surprise and anger.

"Okay, that got me good, really good in fact, but I got to ask you crow man, who the hell are you?"

A small chuckle left the hunter's hidden mouth that was etched into a smile beneath the featureless mask. Stone was cut as he spun the Burial Blade trough the hardened stone beneath his worn boots.

"who I am does not matter to one such as yourself, I will not tell you who I am, just as I did not tell did not tell your companion as we fought earlier."

The feeling of rage and disbelief that the man showed was intense but hidden well as he began to rant angrily in front of the long, haired blond.

"Great, just goddamned great! First, this plan went bust, then little red appeared swinging her oversized farm tool, and now I find out some edgy man in a crow mask has made my backup useless."

"If I was you, I would run. I promise that I will not chase. I, myself, is a survivor, and I know one when I see them. In truth, the only reason I even fought your accomplice is because she started the fight. "

With a small nod, the criminal ran as the masked man stood still leaning on the scythe, watching as his body disappeared a Bullhead flew through the air the air, before it was cut in half by a large, green beam of light that radiated extreme heat. Not long after, the police appeared, as well as other emergency services and two-woman appeared, one was in white with white hair in a pony tail and under a tiara, and a blond who wore brown clothing and yellow bracers on her wrists.

As he was about to make his own run, the hunter noticed one of the unconscious grunts quickly rise, the blade he held aiming for the woman in white as he brought the broken down in a stabbing motion.

"Die, Schnee!"

Much to everybody's surprise, the crow masked hunter raised his arm as the blade lodged in-between the radius and ulna. The pale blood gushed from the wound as he pulled it back out of the arm and quickly slammed his fist into the side of the hunters face, making the hood fall back and the mask to hit the ground, all as the others couldn't move in horror.

The arm of the White fang member let out a loud snap as the hunter forced the elbow upwards and the forearm downwards, the sound made a few people around him gag and recoil. As the whimpering Fang member hit the ground, he turned back to the girls that showed shock on their faces from both horror and shock. The one in red spoke with a small whimper that was a question.

"J-Jaune? What happened to you?"

It was familiar to him, like a distance memory that had long since faded. It meant something to him, it was personal, the cloud that covered his old identity slowly faded away into nothingness

"Jaune? Yes, that… that was my name, I think? I… haven't heard that in a long time."

A small tug was felt on his trouser leg, grabbing his attention. It was four messengers that looked at him curiously, a smile appeared on his scarred face as he crouched down and rubbed their pale heads as if they were children.

"Uh, Vomit-boy, what are you doing?"

A look of indignation went onto his face as he looked at the blond one. Before his features calmed to understanding as he continued to rub their heads as a thank you, as well to comfort himself.

"What? Can you not see them? Wait, no, no, that would make sense, of course. Why would you see them, you never experienced the dream?"

The four looked at each other with concerned and confusion, until the one in white spoke seemingly impatient and wanting to discover what he was talking about.

"What are you talking about?"

Chuckling left his lips the moment she asked the question, it was less one of humour and more of nostalgia.

"It matters not. Just… reminiscing about the past. It seems as if some people wish to speak with us so, shall we greet them."

The four looked at him strangely, before the one in red let out a small, light-hearted giggle. She continued to speak, not noticing that he had frozen to near stillness as his body shook.

"Jaune, why are speaking so weird?"

Jaune didn't answer, he didn't move and didn't breathe. The eyes in his skull looked off distantly as dread filled his body. The feeling of bony hands ran over his body, long forgotten pain filled his body as his arm flared and covered in electricity as he looked vacant. Before him was a small girl, covered in blood, her arm was replaced by a small stump and her body was half dissolved by acid, with patches of skin and bone showing over her body.

She moved closer as trickling sanguine dripped from her wounds as she stared with her one remaining eye. The blood splattered blond hair moved beneath the bloody bow, as she walked forward. A throwing knife was plunged into his wrist, causing the four others to feel sickened and fearful, before the knife was ripped out violently as his breathing became more laboured and tired as white dripped down from the wrist.

"What the hell?!"

"Why'd you do that?!"

Red was crying tears as she couldn't help but look at the pale blood dripping out to the wound. Jaune's voice was weary and tired, a slight bit of hidden madness worming its way into the words as he walked forward. A small vial of blood was injected into his leg as he began to speak.

"It does not matter why, not at the moment for the very least. I just need a second for it to work, none of you worry I've been through far worst."

A Bullhead landed nearby with two people stepping out, one was female that was dressed in a simple, black tube skirt and frilled white shirt, she was staring at him in surprise with vibrant green eyes that was behind glasses. The other was a man that had short, silver hair and black, circular spectacles, he wore a green suit and cane. To the others, he was simply their headmaster, but to Jaune there was something else to him, one that made him feel sick.

They all sat in the small Bullhead as the headmaster and headmistress spoke with the police on the outside of the vehicle. All but Jaune sat in an uncomfortable silence as the waited for it to be over with, except for the yellow one, who spoke with concern.

"Seriously, Vomit-boy, what the hell was that? Why'd you stab yourself?"

Before he could answer, the one in red spoke up.

"Why's your blood white."

Jaune narrowed his eyes dangerously. They felt as if they were being crushed as the felt the need to run and escape, but were unable to move from the overpowering fear, before it disappeared. Jaune sat still as his face turned into that of a hollow and saddened smile.

"I've changed from who you knew of, I can barely remember each of you and myself. It was because of the amount of time and horrors I had encountered in that damnable city."

All four looked at him in confusion, before the white spoke rather coldly.

"Where, exactly, could you have spent a month to change you into this, dunce?"

It started as a small shaking of his shoulders before turning into chuckles that were short, which turned into full, delirious laughter that could be heard from the outside of the vehicle and perhaps over the entirety of Vale. Tears of white pale blood streamed down his face as his hair moved erratically with his shaking body, the colour changing to a paler tone for a few milliseconds before reverting. He spoke with madness in his voice, the tone shifting to that unhuman, without the need to take breath in-between the words.

"**A month, A single month. No, no, no, NO! It had been more than a single month. Years, millennia, eons that would be more believable, especially with those accursed repeats. Over, and over and over and over and over **and… and… over… over… over… again… and again… again… endlessly.**"**

The repeating words stopped as he felt the comforting feeling of his messengers around him as they tried to calm him, which worked well. The rest of the Bullhead was silent as they began to set off back to Beacon Academy.


	4. Hints of Beyond

The incandescent sun began to rise as they flew to Beacon academy in the dark sky and over the brightly lit city of Vale. Most, if not all, of the people on the bull head was tense and uncomfortable except for Jaune, who was staring out of the window over the streets of the bloodless city. He seemed unnatural as he watched through the thick glass leading to the outside world without any movements at all, except for his heavy eyes tracing the streets unblinking, almost as if he was recoding every last sight he could in his disturbed mind. Even the smile that lined his face seemed twisted and bloodthirsty, almost as if a show to prove that he was more than confident that he could slaughter the other members of the bullhead.

Cracking filled the air as he moved his stiffened fingers, before drumming them against the armrest in a fast, beating rhythm akin to that of a heart. Itching washed over his scarred and bloodied flesh at the idleness, the writhing feeling reminding him of invading tentacles and fleshy creatures from the Yharnam streets and the labyrinths beneath the accursed city and of the lesser Amygdala's grip.

Every moment that past, the want to claw his own skin and flesh from his cursed bones grew, the need for blood getting greater as he remembered his small outburst. The ever-growing irritation caused by the clean-smelling room was beginning to grow more and more, even with the Messenger that was gently holding onto his unoccupied hand like the child it was could not satiate or supress it. Letting the gentle hum of the aircrafts engines overrule his finger drumming as he stopped his fidgeting, which unintentionally grabbed the rests attention, he slouched back into his seat as he noticed that the others were sitting even more tensely as they prepared to defend themselves in case the hunter attacked them.

Blood scented breath permeated the air as it left his mouth, causing the one in black to slightly gag in disgust as he continued to wait to arrive at where they were going. With each second passing he felt the stifling walls and air around him making his boredom grow, almost making him wish that those around him would attack. Oh, he was aware of their fear, the jittering movement every time they breathed in, a layer of glistening sweat atop their skin as the watched him and the slightness of their hands near their own weapons. Each a sign showing that they were ready to spring on him if he stepped out of line, or their own paranoia, and he could smell it in the droves.

The near melodic groaning sound of his Messengers drew his attention away from the others fear, drawing a slight chuckle from the bloodied hunter as he looked at a Messenger claw at the glass with its lifeless fingers. While most of the Messengers stayed close to him in case, he had another episode, some had decided to watch the outside world to glance at the luminous city beneath them. It was a nice sight, if a little disturbing at seeing the little ones being occupied with a different matter.

That was until the voice of the one in white spoke up, the underlaying fear being hidden behind a mask of anger and distain towards the Hunter.

"What are laughing at? Nothing about this situation is funny! Not only have you been missing without a trace, you reappear out of nowhere at a White Fang attack and decide to join in!"

Another chuckle left his mouth as he looked the white themed princess in the eyes, the slightest hint of his madness appearing clearly in his bloodshot orbs. One of his gloved hands reached towards his face as he slightly scratched at one of his more apparent silver scars that trailed along his one of his cheekbones and quickly whittled away the thin membrane despite how it had completely healed. What could only be described as a torrent of pale blood washed down the side of his face and down his face as the smile continued to be in place even as the toneless liquid flowed into his mouth , making the members of the team turn a slight green or pale at the visage.

Despite the concerning nature of his action, he acted like it never happened as he spoke in a kind voice that was just a little bit strained.

"I used to tell the children what I remembered of this city, even if it was very little. Of course, it was more for my benefit and their entertainment, especially after I started to forget more, but it still granted me a small feeling of happiness and a closer grasp on my own dwindling sanity, even if there is very little left of it. I never truly thought that I would leave that damned city, let alone leave it alive. Yet, here I am."

Again, near silence ruled the carriage as they continued to their destination without another interruption except for the squelching sound of the Hunter's skin threading itself together again, until he started drumming again. They were very uncomfortable, and all but the pilot was watching him, including the grey-haired headmaster and his old eyes. He did find it entertaining that the one in black seemed to beg for release especially as she seemed to deflate whenever he looked at her. Every second he could see her fidgeting, as if she was prey to some great beast and while he still wore the false grin on his face, he was frowning internally at her actions . Again, he turned from them as the Bullhead soared above the city lights below.

Even with how long the trip was, he still had to admire the scenery below him especially compared with the seemingly required black and grey of Yharnam's buildings and the ashy tone of the Hunters Nightmare. There was a small ignorable bump as the aircraft finally landed on the ground, alongside the dying sound of the engine. With a small click, the latch on the Bullhead's door opened smoothly before gently lowering to the ground to form a ramp. Burning filled all of his retinas as the dawning light filled his sigh, be he couldn't close them. No pain would be great enough to distract him from the majesty of the morning sun or how the masterwork structures around him would reflect the incandescent beams.

Comparing Byrgenwerth and Cainhurst to the grandness and the size of the Academy would be pointless as the only way that it could be bested by either of them would be if Cainhurst was in its prime. It almost rivalled the cathedral in sheer height. He was brought from his thoughts by the Headmaster's old and gentle voice; however, he knew the truth behind it, the creature pretending to be human. It may have worn a human face, but it was anything else, he could see the many people that it was.

"Mister Arc, please stay in front of us where we can see you. Team RWBY, go get some rest, we will talk about what happened at the docks later."

Each of the colour specific girls left towards another part of the campus in a hurry, most likely to get away from him, meanwhile, the Hunter was being escorted through the academy while being watched by the Headmaster and the Headmistress. Despite being muffled by the carpet beneath their feet, the Hunter's hard boots made heavy sounds as he passed through the alabaster halls. Each second gnawed at him as the air got tenser with their travel, his weapons ready to be drawn, even when they reached the elevator, he still kept a throwing knife in his sleeve, just in case. Even as it travelled upwards, he kept drumming his fingers against his leg, as he did a lot back in Yharnam to calm his nerves, although this time it was an entirely different reason.

With a light ding of a bell, the elevator stopped at their destination. The resonating sound of the ticking clockwork brought him back to the Hunter's Nightmare, more specifically the clocktower, a place he would forever remember as merciless and unforgiving, even when compared with the hell of the labyrinth beneath Yharnam it could make the most vicious hunter look like a mere puppy. Deep in his chest was a searing hotness as his body recalled the bloody flames that plunged through his flesh. A large, scarred burn was stitched into his skin from his fight with the Hunter of The Astral Clocktower. He was forced out of his memories by the headmaster's voice, although he was only able to hear the end of what he said in the infuriating voice.

"-Are you listening Mr Arc?"

"I apologise sir, but can you please repeat what you said, I was… preoccupied."

Even over the sound of countless gears clicking and moving in unison above them, he could feel the exhaustion in its voice and on its face. It almost made him feel sorry for it, despite what it most likely was a twisted creature, it acted as if it was human but the constant feeling of it being kept him on edge.

"That's fine Mr Arc, it happens to many of us and with how you present yourself it seems that you're on edge. Please, have a seat we have… a lot to talk about."

The grin on Jaune's face muted slightly as he saw the Headmistress leave the room into a side room away from the two to give privacy. The hunter spoke in a deathly cold voice, managing to gain a visible shiver out of Ozpin, causing a crooked grin to reappear over the blonde's face, the red pupils seemingly creeping into the golden blue of the irises as if they were some form of disease.

"When I finally left that bloody city, I never expected to see something like you here. I should have expected that creatures such as yourself exist away from the nightmare and labyrinths, although I thought that Yharnam would be the exception. Though, I suppose I can forgive your existence for once, after all you took a foolish chance on the whims of cosmic beings. Ah, to think that such a foolish want to be with your lover caused multiple lifetimes of suffering as you leached off of the many. Tell me, do you feel sorry for them, the drunkard, the hermit, the settler? Will you feel sorry for those who come after the Headmaster, will you feel regret for the farm boy?"

Distress and anger covered the man's face as he grabbed his cane with the intent to threaten the hunter for information, only to find that the weapon was in the hunters hand already, while he failed to notice the small amount of mist at the chair legs. The same crooked grin was still plastered on the Hunters face as the cane extended to its full length.

"Such a wonderful weapon you have. Truly one of greatness, to think that a weapon that had existed through a few of your reincarnations could still look so fine. My, it's almost as if it never aged at all, almost as if it maintains itself in a permanent state of time.

"As far as I'm aware, only me, Salem and the Brothers are aware of any of that. How is it that you even know about my reincarnations? T-this was originally about whether or not you wanted to reattend Beacon and to make you aware of what had happened in your absence, but now… "

Chortling came from the hunter as his head reared back violently before it fell forwards again, his hands slamming into the wooden desk in front of the Headmaster violently. Flesh parted as eyelids wriggled open, the many eyes that dotted the hunters forehead and face all kept blinking each on their own as pale blood leaked out of the eyes. Writhing could be seen as the phantasm in the eyes swam freely in the cosmic orbs. Blood dripped from sharp, penetrating vertebrae from the blondes deathly twisted neck. It ended as fast as it happened, with Jaune once again sitting back in his chair while the Headmaster regained his breathing from the oppressive smell of blood and death.

A cork popped as the pungent smell of refined blood filled the air, before the bottle was thrown back with the haemoglobin ridden liquid pouring down the back of the Hunters throat.

"Hmm, what is the matter wizard? You look as if you had seen the worst things imaginable in a second. Anyhow, shall we get on with the original purpose of this meeting? Or perhaps you wish to speak about my wonderful experiences? Ask away to your hearts content."

Pure unease could be seen in the clammy, pale skin of the Headmaster. He spoke with a slight stutter in his usually strong voice, but eventually regained his composure

"W-well, you keep mentioning this "Yharnam". From the way you keep describing it, it seems to be some sort of city or town and yet I have never heard of it."

A gentle hum acme from the Hunters mouth as he leaned forwards again, appreciating the soft cushions on the chair. Hints of blood was still on his breath when he leaned back again, resting his chin on his bent wrist at what could have only been an awkward angle. With another sip from the potent blood, he began to speak more solemnly.

"It is, or was, a city. I never found out where it is exactly, and honestly, I'd much rather keep people away from there. One minute I here, next I was at Iosefka's clinic after a blood transfusion. I will say though, lovely folk, never hesitating to tell you to kill yourself, that you are not welcome there or just telling you to fuck off. Although there was one thing that the city was dependent on, and that was blood. "

The Headmaster seemed by confused by what he said so with a hoarse laugh and a swig of his cocktail, he spoke again hoping to clarify.

"Almost everything had to do with blood. They found old blood beneath the city and used it as a cure all, a panacea, what they refused to tell was that it was the very same blood that turned them into beasts. Seen it happen with a hunter before, his blood bursted from his body as if it was a fountain. Alcohol, medicine, enhancements, all was blood. Why have a strong glass of, say, vodka when blood can inebriate you far faster. Originally, it was merely used to try to reach enlightenment or to discover what was beyond and it did do that in a sense, depending if it was done properly. Even if it did help them in many ways it, how do I put this? Ah, unshackled their minds to reach a higher plain and twisted them in the progress."

Silence covered the room as the final drops of scarlet ran out of the bottle, the glass shattering to hundreds of shards as the hand tightened around its fragile frame. The Hunter didn't even bother to loom down at the dripping limb as he pulled the broken shards from his glove and flesh. Ozpin could only look at the haunted visage on his pupil's face as Jaune spoke solemnly.

"I- I have many regrets from there, all they did was grow with- with the repeats I tried over and over to save at least someone, it didn't even have to be one of the children, it just had to be someone. One of the group that picked me up stated that I had been gone for a month, while to you that might be true, to me, I was gone for far, far longer. I was also wondering whether or not you have a sample of my blood from before I disappeared?"

Ozpin shook his head as he leaned back into his oddly shaped chair.

"No. I'm assuming this has to do with you looking at Team RWBY as if they were strangers?"

A sigh escaped Jaune's mouth as he began to massage the large bags under his eyes, a feature that didn't go unnoticed by the silver-haired professor.

"Yes, unfortunately. My memories of both Beacon and, well, my life before Yharnam has degraded severely to the point that they nearly don't exist anymore. I was hoping that I could use the echoes in it to remember what I used to be like before turning into this. That is all I'm willing to give from my end, so then how about yours?"

For a brief second, Jaune could see a look of regret on the immortal man's face while his posture hunched. It almost made the Hunter feel sorry for the man, but even if it wasn't fully his fault, he was still a parasite.

"First of all, your transcripts falsity was revealed by Mr Winchester, who had been reprimanded to some degree. Surprisingly, many of the school's populous don't mind if you stay, on the condition that you prove yourself through an initiation test alone. However, some of the campus, notably Miss Schnee, team CRDL and the newly named team GNPR, all believe that you should be barred from here. Team GRNP was your former team, however, after your absence, it was decided that your sister Grise would take your place as team leader."

It was faded, but he could remember Grise slightly, at least the short, spikey blond hair and the near metallic grey eyes. Even thinking of her name made a part of him on the inside writhe in rage. His eyes darkened as he tried to force himself to remember, but still nothing came from it. He was dragged from the depths of his mind due to Ozpins soft voice.

"Mr Arc, are you sure you're okay?"

Chuckling, he stood up with a small pop in his knees and the crack of his hand.

"Saying that I'm fine is more than debatable, but I am doing better. I suppose I'll take to going through initiation once again and stay, now what to do?"

Ozpin also stood up from his seat before walking to the window with his cane in hand. The Goodwitch re-entered the room, a look of confusion covering her face, almost like she couldn't remember what was going on earlier.

"If you want, you can use one of the guest rooms as a place to stay in the meantime. Head to the cliffs at eight A.M sharp, I don't hope you mind being seen."

Another smile graced Jaune's face, the cracked and scarred lips creating a terrifying visage to the bloodthirsty grin.

"Not at all, if anything it can be used as a learning experience to show how a true hunter hunts."

Even if it unnerved the both of the teachers, they refused to show it. Ozpin turned back to look out of the window as he spoke to Glynda.

"If you wouldn't mind Miss Goodwitch, can you show Mr Arc to the guest room?"

With a now calmed face, the Goodwitch answered him.

"Of course, sir. Now, Mr Arc stay close to where I can see you."

The two took the elevator to the bottom floor as Ozpin looked over the dawning horizon motionlessly, the tired exasperation in his voice was more evident than it ever was before.

"As your teacher, I can't help but feel ashamed of what had happened to you Jaune, but I feel even more sorry for those that you fight."

All the while a single, unknown entity watched as the Reincarnating talked to himself, before it disappeared without even a whisper, leaving only a pale blue as a sign it even existed before even that faded.


	5. Within the Dark of the Forest

Crisp, morning air gently blew across the dewed grass as the two men stood atop the cliffs edge. Ozpin looked how he usually did, with his cane extended at his side, although the Hunter was a different case. Over the small amount of time he had to rest, he had made his own outfit, rather than relying on the clothing he had found back in Yharnam. While he enjoyed the designs and the weighty feel of the reinforced garbs, he'd much rather have his own unique style.

A long, black, leathery coat covered his entire body. The extremely resistant Amygdala skin made a perfect set of defensive armour, even if it was annoying to piece and sow together, he just felt lucky that he managed to skin the Greater Amygdala over and over again, the sheer amount of pain that it brought on the creature brought a sadistic smile to his face. At the bottom of the duster tails and the sleeves were the rugged and moving blue-grey fur of a dark beast, each piece of which still created electricity due to the living strings that kept the coat together, resulting in it being slightly alive.

While the writhing fur did seem somewhat ominous, the gloves that covered his hands were very much of the same fashion. They merely seemed to a large amount of black cloth wrapped around the fingers and palm as if it was a bandage, however in between the fabric that once hid the true form of the Yharnam Shadows was chitinous grey plating that was stripped from the face of the vacuous spider. Again, through the usage of living string, he kept the strange remnants of the past alive to a degree, as could be seen as a snake slithered between the bandages, along with the slight dripping of ashen blood at the tips of his fingertips.

Again, black Amygdala skin made the majority of the tight boots he wore, but alongside that was burning fur which seemed to never fade, ripped from the hide of Laurence in frustration and as a way to escape the molten lava that he had thrown up. It covered the boot entrance and along the stitching, giving it a more bestial appearance and left a small trail of fire in his step. Surprisingly, despite how often it would come in contact with his coat, it never left a single scorch mark. Better than what Laurence had done to him, that was for sure. A pale patch of skin on the back of his wrist still could feel next to nothing after the first time he fought against the creature.

Interestingly enough, The Hunter covered his back in a myriad of features. He still kept Gehrman's tattered cloak right beside Maria's cloak in remembrance of the old Hunters, but now there was also more outlandish features. Large, black feathers torn directly from the back of Mergo's Wet Nurse hidden back seemed to move somewhat lively once he attached them to his living garb, similarly to the pale, fleshy trail that once covered the Orphan of Kos's back. They didn't seem to cover the sown in symbol on his back, which was made from the hunters mark, with a large eye at the bottom of the pikes, all sown in patches of the shimmering blue white of Ebrietas lifeless skin and grey hair taken from the mummified head of a sage.

Nothing covered his head, letting his long hair flow freely. The only real thing of extra design was a necklace that hung motionlessly around his neck. Its golden frame held the writhing form of the Yharnam stone, for no other reason than to show that he would let nothing stand in his way.

Both of the teachers, Ozpin and Goodwitch, stood in front of him, the former looking far more sleep deprived than the day before. Miss Goodwitch spoke in a practiced calm voice which contrasted with the heavy beating he could hear within her chest.

"You will travel through the Emerald Forest alone and search for a relic. You have two hours to not only find the relic, but to also return to this point. Are you ready Mr Arc?"

Jaune chuckled, as he seemed to be doing a lot of recently. He nodded as the bloodthirst in his eyes grew hungrier by the second, his hand tightly wrapped around the grip of the curved sword in his hand, putting the Goodwitch on edge as a small smirk grew on his face, his voice was filled with a mixture of gloat and cockiness that nobody would expect from the past version of him.

"Please, even if I merely had fragile clothing to dress my back this would still be easier than carving flesh from bones. This is merely a formality to appease those that dislike me. One question, how am I supposed to reach the forest? Should I just-"

Ozpin cut the Hunter off, resulting in an indifferent huff from the bloodied man. Jaune was more than surprised at how the Headmaster was functioning, whether it was out of necessity or related to the overpowering scent of coffee coming from the man, he had no idea, all he knew was that he should listen to the sleepless man.

"You will be launched from here. I hope you've prepared a landing strategy that doesn't rely on another to save you. While you're there, can you find a group of huntsman that I had sent into the forest? They were to investigate some… disturbing sightings and report back this morning, after you came back, but they never did. I don't know whether I should wish you good luck or the Grimm."

The Hunter was flung into the air as the still chilled morning air brushed against his face, the height granting him a wonderful view of the luscious forest below as the wings on his back spread wide enough to glide him to the ground, but not before he searched for a Grimm with a keen watching eye. Black, viscous liquid tainted the grass as a Beowolf was impaled by the long silver edge of the Burial Blade, before being silenced as the Hunter crushed it under his boot when he landed. Grimm blood splattered across his exposed face and by instinct he licked it, the thick liquid tried to stay together with a large string connecting each part of it together.

A mix between ashy smoke and a vague taste of strong, black liquorice invaded his taste buds as he swallowed the creatures blood harshly. Not the most unpleasant taste he had encountered, but nowhere near as sensational as that of refined human blood. Flakes of the beast floated away in the air as both he and the Burial Blade rose from the ground; the bony creature beneath him let out a few cracks as he walked over the dead being. Popping came from the Hunter's shoulders as he rolled them before looking into the forest, the bloody ghost of a small child looking from the tree line, before disappearing as he blinked.

Wet mud shifted as he walked towards where the girl was, a torn bloody severed hand laid in the dirt. It seemed to still hold a scroll which could have gave him some information about the odd sightings that had been happening; but it was broken, the glass shards stabbing through the severed appendages flesh like thin pointed needles through the weakened, paper thin skin.

Rigor mortis had already settled in, matching the timeframe in which the group of huntsmen went missing. Saliva covered the numbed wrist of the limb as Jaune licked at the torn flesh to get at the iron tasting liquid inside, much to the horrified sight of the students that was watching in the auditorium which caused them to feel, at best, nauseous. In his own sight, an illuminated trail of blood covered the ground as it glowed a moonlight white, his first hint to the missing huntsman and the creature that had seemingly killed them off.

Cuts and blood always made him on edge, both in fear and excitement. To him, it was never life or death; just knowing that he would come back numbed him to the thought of fear. But now, there was a chance of death. Each fight was a gamble of survival even if he was still grossly more powerful than any other thing he had encountered so far. A bored sigh left his lips as he severed another Beowolf in half, before shooting one in the arm with Evelyn.

It practically flew back and almost off its feet, only for the Slayer of Beasts to grapple its mangled fur. He slammed the creature into a tree, before shooting off a branch from the same tree and stabbing it through the creature's sternum. Another wolf tried to swing at him only to be thrown over his shoulder, before bending its elbow inwards with the crisp crack of the joint echoing in the small part of the forest. It howled before its skull was crushed under the mans boot, the black and red dousing the area in a more macabre colouration.

Scratching came from the pinned wolf as it struggled to remove the stick in its chest, before the feeing of the dripping poison coated the thick fur on the Beowolf's head. Bark splintered as he slammed the creature's head repeatedly slammed into the tree, until both the splattered remains of the wolf and the tree fell to the ground lifelessly. Not a single emotion covered Jaune's face as he walked away.

He returned to his search, only to find a torn, eaten body leaning against a tree, the small intestines covering the branches of the trees all around him and the torn apart chest cavity was exposed to the world. A few centimetres from the desecrated body was his scroll, but what caught his attention was not that he had both hands, meaning that it was a different person, but the cuts that was across his body and the way that it was gnarled. Large gashes covered the torso, far larger than that of a Beowolf and far less clean, unlike the unnatural gentle glide of a Grimm's claw. A pang of remembrance echoed in his head as he remembered the sight of villagers butchered by a former cleric turned into a monstrous creature.

He grabbed the scroll before wiping some of the dark, dry sanguine off of its surface with a small amount of spit. While the screen was cracked, it still seemed to play the last recorded message although a small bit muted by the half-broken stereo. He could barely make anything out from the black screen, but there was some slight movement with a harsh sound of breathing.

"_Oh-Oh God… I-it butchered them! I'm so, so sorry! Please, I don't want to die, not like what that t-thing did!"_

A loud, high pitched howl echoed in the background as loud thumping was heard from a racing creature. It got louder and louder as the man started to shout in panic, causing those in the audience to panic.

"_Wait, nononoNONONONO! STOP!"_

A large, clawed hand ran through the huntsman's chest, pinning him to the tree as the scroll was launched from the man's hand, before the man went still as the giant creature reared back its head and let out its howling roar. A smile of remembrance covered his face, before a large bloodthirsty grin covered the man's features. To him, there was finally something to enjoy.

"Well, to think a Beast like you would be here of all places. This is no nightmare after all, and there is certainly no Yharnam in this colourful place. But alas, a beast exists here. It seems there truly is a need for a Hunter and…"

The metal pole of the Burial Blade flew open as the curved blade slammed into its latch. It spun around his body, before it cut through the jaw of a pouncing Beowolf, pinning it to the blade.

"… A Hunter must hunt, after all."

Grabbing the upper half of the wolf's snout, he pulled it towards him as blackish blood leaked from the sliced creature's flayed flesh. Like he had done many a time before, he threw the corpse away, before whacking another wolf in the neck with the scythe, knocking it to the ground with a heavy thud and the feeling of its squishy neck giving away. Bone shattered as he drove the creature of darkness onto his pointed knee, the sharp point easily penetrating the black toned skull. Ashes covered another Beowolf as he threw the dissipating corpse at it, before the unrelenting grip of the Hunter began to wrap around its skull, the mushy feeling of what would have been its brain matter dripped and wormed their way from out of his fingers, the ethereal snakes that slithered around the bandages gorged on the creatures matter.

Pale blood dyed the ground a glowing tint as bone shards splintered through the wrapping, each being torn from the flesh by the snakes. Burial Blade now deep within a Beowolf's chest cavity, he carved out the blackened flesh before finishing off the wolf creature with a merciless blow to its neck; the bony claws at the tips of his fingers dug into the malleable flesh as he tore through where the spine should have been, only to instead rip out a long, centipede- like creature. He felt the thousands legs it had try to scurry out of his grp before it was crushed under his disgusted grip, much to the confusion of the unseeing audience. No more Grimm and no more sound echoed over the forest as he had an uneventful journey through the greenery.

It took less than a second for Jaune's eyes to meet the bloody void of the small child. His body froze as it stalked towards him in a twisted, unnatural fashion; the clicking of her knee bones filling his ears before it all stopped, until it truly started.

Desperate wailing filled Jaune's ears as he fell to the ground, his chest heavy as blood dripped from his eyes nose and mouth. The coagulated white seemed to mix with a small tone of red as it continued to poor forth from his features. Skittering chitin travelled down his spine as more corpses looked from beyond the trees, each a face he had killed many times before. They drew closer by the second as more and more bodies joined; the rotting scent of their lifeless flesh filling his senses as his eyes grew heavier and heavier. One of them spoke in a raspy tone, his neck twisted in an odd angle with its vertebrae jutting out from his dirty skin

"**You killed us…"**

Another moved forward, its jaw half missing and gargling its words as it tried to reach forward to grab at the Hunter with its missing fingers dripping its sanguine as its accusing, glassy eyes stared deep into him.

"**You maimed us…"**

A man in red and grey moved forward, his ash coloured coat torn wide to the elements as crimson leaked from his gaping wound, each of his words sounding a breathless husk.

"**You betrayed us…"**

Again, the small girl re appeared before him, her hand trying to reach for his sweat drenched head as he stared into the nothing ness that was her eyes. It spoke in a cutesy voice, morphed by the emotionlessness of death.

"**You Abandoned us…"**

All he could do was wait for the girl to grasp him. not a single movement came from his body as it forced him through his torment and yet…

"Hey… You… Alright? Not safe… here… Go…"

A whistle-like voice broke him away from the dead and back to reality, just as a heavily injured man crawled from the underbrush. Blue and black bruises covered every inch of his exposed flesh, even the parts that were torn open in a gaping wound had a darker tone to it than normal flesh almost as if they were poisoned. Sanguine rolled down the man's mouth as a breathless cough tore up the inside of his crushed windpipe. What little Aura the man had seemed to melt away as a blank look covered his eyes as his head fell. A slightly sad tone covered the Hunters voice for a second as he spoke to himself as he wiped away at the pale trails that ran down his face.

"Another soul to add to the pile. I hope you find peace in the world beyond. Umbasa."

To the shock of the frightened audience, Jaune walked to the corpse as he dove his fingers into the cracked skull of the man; his digits were writhing like worms as he dove farther into the skulls recesses before a squidgy pop came from the socket. Pale blue was wrenched from the cadavers head as the stringy optic nerve bounced slightly, before he tore it from its anchor. Its brother soon followed suit, before it disappeared into the endless pocket of Jaune's coat.

Again, he followed the glowing trail, until he reached the same cliff edge from his first initiation. Set as the centre of the platform was a small, silver statue of a Beowolf, just as he grabbed it, he was launched back into the woods as a bestial hand sent him flying with an unrelenting strength. Wood and dirt were flung through the air as Jaune's body collided with everything in its path, before bouncing slightly while it began to stop. The Burial Blade was barely in his sight as he saw its faint glimmering.

His body stumbled slightly as twigs, stones and shattered wood was being forced from his exposed flesh, with he himself having to rip the larger pieces from his body, the coat also was sowing itself up just as his skin was doing. The colossal beast that stood Infront of him matched that of the Cleric Beast, and yet, was different. Patches of its fur and skin was an inky black as it stared at him with feral red, bloodshot eyes. It seemed to be a combination of Grimm and Beast, making it a far more enticing hunt.

White stained his hair as pale blood leaked from his missing eye while strange tentacles emerged from his socket and tried to grasp at anything they could get, eventually grabbing one of the taken eyes as it was raised in front of them , converting it to match his other while phantasmas bulged and swam under its surface. The Hunter's teeth grew sharper as his hair became more ragged and thicker. With a single roar, the beast ran forward, intending to take as much as it could gain from the Hunter.


End file.
